


Finding Balance

by WaywardDaughter617



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Sastiel too if you're at it, Angel Wings, Are you done reading the tags now???, Castiel's Wings, Gen, I just love affectionate Team Free Will, Maybe Destiel if you really tilt your head?, Tattooed Castiel, Whump, Wings, but not really, hurt wings, sue me, true form cas, wing fic, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardDaughter617/pseuds/WaywardDaughter617
Summary: Cas finds himself in a bit of a predicament.His wings have manifested, his body can't deal with the barrage of sensations, he's injured, and he has no idea how long he's been laying on the bunker floor trying to cope with it all.





	Finding Balance

A groaning, creaking door closed.  
Footsteps. A heart, that should by all rights be still, raced. Despite knowing that it must be Sam and Dean entering, Cas shivered in his spot, the movement shaking his appendages. He shouldn’t be like this. This was wrong, unnatural. Concrete was cold against his back from where bare skin touched stone.

“Cas? You here?” Dean’s voice called out. He didn’t shout, but against Cas’s will, he flinched, all of his limbs drawing close to him. Remaining curled up in a tight, protective ball, he summoned up the will to answer, but all that came out was a soft, “Yes?” 

He could barely find it in himself to speak. It was too much stimulation, too many senses firing off all at once. The words reverberated in his head, much too loudly. Just like the Winchester’s steps as they echoed in the quiet air of the bunker. From his position huddled on the floor he knew the exact moment that they saw him as their steps faltered and duffle bags fell on the floor with a thud.

“Oh my god…” Sam’s voice breathed out as he and Dean approached with quick feet. Cas could hear the air catch in the younger Winchester’s chest. He was quite familiar with the sound.

“Cas?... What happened?” Dean questioned. Two pairs of shoes stopped within his reach, and they kneeled, and Cas found himself needing to steady his own breathing as his senses seemed to reach maximum sensitivity.

“It would seem that...my Grace is...malfunctioning.” He swallowed. “Perhaps because of heaven’s state of distress.” The set of wings shivered against him as the dark feathers fluffed up, betraying Cas’s unease and fear. The blue-white glow of grace shone in the corner he’d propped himself in, dimly shining from his skin and brightening at the center of his chest, the base of his wings and through his eyelids. 

Sam and Dean both shifted on their knees. Somehow, without opening his eyes, Cas could tell that the brother’s looked at each other when he heard the subtle movement of the fabric. “Cas...when did this happen?” Dean’s voice had dropped, worry unmistakable in the rough tone.

“Not long ago...I think,” a full-body shiver passed over him like a wave. He wished his clothes hadn’t torn, he wished that he wasn't so cold… “wait. Where’s Jack?” He asked suddenly. 

“He’s still with Jody,” Dean interjected, “she wanted to spend some more time with the kid before she went home. They’re getting dinner or something.”

“Good.” Inhaling a bit, Cas nodded, eyes squeezing shut as the temptation to open them pushed against him. 

“Cas...? Is that blood?” Sam’s gentle fingers reached out, brushing against feathers, and he flinched violently at the touch his eyes opening against the light, catching a glimpse of Sam’s hurt expression as he did so. 

Dammit. It probably was blood, now that he thought about it. He’d left after they had finished with the latest case with only a few wounds, nothing that wouldn’t heal within a day or two with measure grace, leaving Jack with the brothers and Jody. He’d been unusually tired but had made it to the Bunker in good time. 

Unfortunately, he’d only been sitting for a few minutes before he had felt an odd pulse on the “angel radio”, and felt the answering call in the core of him before the transformation had started and he had collapsed. 

Realizing he couldn’t stay on the cold floor forever, Cas shifted, shakily setting his feet under him. Wings moved reflexively in an attempt to balance him as he tried to get up, the extra appendages fanning outwards, but his legs were weak as a kitten’s. He reached out, blindly grabbing a familiar shoulder to steady himself while cursing reflexively in Enochian, wings flapping in a fruitless attempt to lift him up. 

This had never happened to him before. He’d heard of other angels merging traits of their vessel and their true form, but only those chosen by God in the time of the Bible, or in visions to the prophets. It wasn’t normal. Not for him. He gasped as his leg gave out before making it even five steps forward and he crumpled to the floor once more in a tangle of human and avian limbs, the shock of it wracking his body in spasms, blue-white light pulsing behind his eyes. 

Then again, he thought wryly, his grace wasn’t exactly normal either, with it blended with a quasi-soul that was in turn intertwined with his vessel. One of the few...unusual effects of having a personal vessel made solely for him by God, not to mention his time as a human. Curling his body, he managed to kneel on all fours, his knees and hands propping him up.

While he could hear Sam and Dean conversing knelt beside him, probably trying to come up with ideas to help, it had reduced to white noise that simply hurt his ears. He could barely resist the urge to simply wrap his wings around himself again and hope that the transformation would just go away. 

He growled, an animalistic sort of snarl that made the glow of his grace flare brightly as he struggled to pull himself up. He could make it to the table. He would. Ceasing their conversation with a bit of a startled jump at the sound, Sam and Dean moved in a practiced tandem to help. Their arms looped around him, linked together under his wing shoulders. On unsteady feet, they took it step-by-step even as Cas’s wings flinched whenever they brushed up against a shoulder or head. Finally, Cas collapsed into one of the chairs, and the brothers carefully moved away, dodging feathers as they did. He was so, so dizzy. Sam stayed next to Cas, a warm hand keeping him steady. A few words were exchanged before Dean jogged off into the hallway to the kitchen and bedrooms. 

Cas couldn’t tell what the hunter had said before leaving with his heart pounding in his ears and chest but he had seen the worried glance that had been thrown over a shoulder. As he took deliberate breaths in an attempt to steady his heart, he marveled at it. The novelty of it never failed to amaze him. He was an angel, a multidimensional creature of celestial nature. Yet, he had a heart, lungs, a physical body of his own, and a...soul. It was as unnerving as the wings he bore now when it first happened. But once again, he was thrown into an entirely new situation, having to adjust to the unknown. It was frustrating. He wondered idly if this heart could even support the blood supply needed for the massive wings that he bore now. 

With his heart rate steadying, his hearing began to return, and Cas lifted his head slightly so that he could look at Sam. “Thank you.” he rasped, throat dry as he reached out, grasping one of Sam’s hands in his own. The stressed lines that had formed furrows in the younger Winchester’s face smoothed out a bit.

“No problem, Cas. You can hear now, right? You were pretty out of it for a minute there.” 

Cas blinked, “Yes. I am...I am as well as I can be, for the moment. The merge of my different forms came with some oversensitivity. I had only recently...changed when you both came in.” 

Sam nodded, eyes still tight with worry. “Dean’s getting some supplies to patch you up.” As Sam spoke, Cas’s left-wing twinged in indignation, the crumpled feathers laying against their natural positioning, nerves screaming against the sensation as he turned his attention to it. Cas stifled a groan of frustration. “Excuse me,” he muttered to Sam. 

Slowly leaning back in the chair, Cas tentatively extended his left wing forward, resting it on the (thankfully bare) map table to examine it. It had been a long time since he’d had to keep up with any sort of real wing maintenance. With the state they had been in, all he could really do was straighten out the feathers so as to not be uncomfortable. His wings, which were once a vivid array of colors like that of a forming galaxy, were blackened and roughly edged starting halfway down to the end of every feather. The long primaries were remarkably sparse, the secondaries and down feathers thin, all clumped together. It itches. Cas frowned.

Looking closer, Cas located the cut that Sam had pointed out near his wing’s equivalent of the human elbow. It pricked sharply as he moved it, and his brow furrowed further. It took a bit of odd bending and contortion, but Cas set most of the feathers straight. As he smoothed the blackened feathers from the rumpled state they had been in, his mouth twisted. He shouldn’t use his grace to heal this, as irritating it would be to bandage. With his grace and heaven as weak as they were, healing himself on both planes of existence would most likely expend all the energy that it would take to heal gradually. Problem is, it would use all that energy in one go, possibly knocking himself unconscious with the effort, and for an indefinite period of time. No. It’s not worth it.

Distantly, he heard footsteps in the hallway and turned to see Dean returning with the first aid kit in hand, along with several rolls of gauze and some water. The hunter pursed his lips tightly as his eyes flicked down to the battered wing spread on the table. Hefting out a slight sigh, the older Winchester set the kit down along with a container of water. “Wasn’t sure what would work for that. I grabbed some water in case you didn’t want to use the kit for some reason. It’s been boiled, so it should be clean enough.” Green eyes were tense as he stepped forward awkwardly, unsure of what to do next, tentative to touch Cas with how reactive he had been only minutes ago.

Nodding his thanks, Cas reached over to pull a sterile cloth from the box, along with the water before dabbing carefully at the cut for a few minutes, cleaning the blood away so that he could see it. Well. It’s not too bad, he considered. It’s not very deep. He glanced at Sam and Dean as he grabbed the bottle of disinfectant, weighing it in his hands. He could feel the minute ridges of the plastic. 

“I’m not sure how sensitive my wings will be to this. It might be best to…”, he paused, gritting his teeth, “hold them down.” The thought itself wasn’t pleasant. Wings were a personal thing, unique to each angel. As much as he trusted Sam and Dean, as close as he was to them both, the core of him rebelled at the thought of letting anyone touch this part of him. Regardless of profound bonds or love, they weren't angels, and the transformation had brought all of his insecurities screaming back into his mind.

Sam touched his bare shoulder with a hand, exchanging a look with Dean, “Are you sure about this, Cas?” 

Taking a deep breath, Cas nodded. “Yes. It...it’s necessary.” As much as I wish it wasn’t. After extending his right wing to lay flat on the table alongside his left wing, Cas directed the brother’s hands to them, shivering a bit at the touch. His own hands shook as he positioned a sterile pad soaked with disinfectant over the wound. A single breath, then he pressed it down, powerful wings bucking against Sam and Dean’s grip in a painful spasm. He gritted his teeth, keeping as still as possible while the solution bubbled and his hypersensitive limbs spasmed. It wasn’t long before his grip went lax and he collapsed back into the chair, gasping in oxygen once more, wings stretched almost painfully until Sam and Dean released them. 

Dean spoke quickly to his brother, keeping a steadying hand on their angel. White noise ringing in his ears, Cas could only watch with wide eyes that began to glow with a muted light. Shivers wracked his limp body as he hyperventilated. “Come on Cas, you gotta slow down that breathing.” Dean’s hands migrated to the sides of Cas’s head, locking eyes with the panicked angel, despite the danger of doing so. “Look at me, bud. In and out. In…” Dean inhaled a steady, if slightly exaggerated breath, “and out”, letting out a long exhale as Sam returned with a soft blanket, draping it over Cas’s bare chest. “Breathe.”  
\-------

Hours later, the manifested wings and weakness still hadn’t gone away, even though the overwhelming sensitivity had mostly faded. His senses were still overly strong, but not disarmingly so. They had managed a messy dressing for his wing wounds as well. The glow of his body had faded into dark blue Enochian sigils and tattoo marks that had appeared in place of some of his more...unusual features of his true form, lining his collarbone, torso, and arms. There were tattoo-like marks on his back, sets of wings, one pair that covered his upper shoulders and went down the length of his arms. The other set started right below the base of his manifested wings and extended below his waist, twisting forwards to cover his legs. Cas couldn't help but wonder what state he may have been in if he had manifested a full corporeal approximation of his true form. He probably would have burned the Winchester’s eyes out. Or perhaps not. They didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from looking at him in his current state.

It’s not so bad now. Cas mussed, seated in the kitchen with Dean bustling about and finishing dinner. The chairs in here were much more comfortable for his feathered limbs, and Sam had taken a quick trip to the store for a cheap blanket and had then fashioned into a sort of tunic to accommodate Cas’s wings.

He glanced over to look at Sam, who was quietly seated across from him. The younger Winchester was completely engrossed in a book on angels and their true forms as described in Revelation and other sources that had been glanced over by Cas to make sure it wasn’t all speculation. Out of the two Winchesters, Sam was most intrigued by the possibilities of the transformation and occasionally lifted his head to inquire about one detail or another.

Cas frowned, his stomach growling as the smell of hamburgers wafted over. Yes, he ate, even though he didn’t have to anymore, but being hungry? That hadn’t happened since he was human. Another complication. He huffed out a frustrated breath. Odds are, he’d have to sleep now too and go to the bathroom as well and that would be an absolute pain, all things considered. He pulled the blanket closer to his shoulders, rolling his eyes at the concept.

Dean glanced over from the kitchen island. “What’s up?” Damnit, he’d heard that. Cas closed his eyes momentarily. “Nothing Dean. I’m just hungry.” He was almost annoyed as Dean perked up, a grin making his eyes crinkle before the man turned back to his prep space, where there were two plates already finished. Even so, he couldn’t fault the man for enjoying food and preparing something he loved for those he cared for. 

So, Cas watched fondly as Dean pulled out another plate out, loading a bun with the burger and toppings, adding a bigger serving of fries than was typical. Balancing all three plates with the ease of a practiced server, he carried them over to steel table, setting them in front of Sam and Cas. He dropped a quick kiss on the crown of Cas’s head before turning back to fetch the condiments and drinks. Sam remained engrossed in the book until Dean nudged his brother’s shoulder while at the same time pushing the book’s edge with the plate. Sam blinked rapidly, turning to look at his brother as his concentration was broken, and Cas had the feeling that he just saw a glimpse of a distinctly younger Winchester at that moment.

“Eat up, nerd,” Dean chuckled. After a minor bitchface from Sam and a bit of shuffling as they adding toppings to their plates, they all tucked into the meal. Despite his misgivings about the situation in general, Cas certainly enjoyed the ability to fully taste the food like a human again, savoring the flavors that burst over his tongue with every bite. Against his knowledge, his wings fluffed out, the feathers rippling in a happy shiver. Sam and Dean traded an amused glance but said nothing. 

Maybe it would be alright.

…………

Cas shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to move from the kitchen seat even as Sam and Dean went to greet Jody and Jack in the map room. He was decidedly uneasy with anyone other than Sam and Dean seeing him at the moment. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jack or Jody, but...it wasn't about trust, now was it? It was...intimate, in a manner. Even angels didn't display their entire true form to each other. The sight of their wings and aura was enough to identify each other with. 

Having his wings exposed and his skin with sigils detailing his true form strewn across his body, it all felt as revealing as if he were entirely naked. Such things such as an angel’s true form were private. He had no clue as to what his own soul looked like, but he remembered how detailed Dean’s had been as Cas had pieced him back together before pulling him out of hell. Souls and True Forms were one and the same, a personal, intimate part of themselves. Not something to be seen casually. 

And so, he remained, seated in the kitchen with the makeshift robe drawn close around his torso, wings held close to his body, listening as the brothers explained the situation to a very confused nephilim. Of course, Jack was confused. He hadn’t been affected. Cas suspected it was because of the walls he had helped Jack raise to keep the angel radio out of his head. Despite his own attempts, Cas still felt that connection, like water seeping through the ground under and past a brick wall. Frustration rose in him, causing his feathers to slick down as he berated himself. If he’d been able to truly cut off the connection, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Sam stepped into the room, his long legs crossing the distance to Cas in only a few strides. 

“Hey, Dean’s taking care of stuff. You mentioned over dinner that you’re going to try to sleep, yeah?” Cas nodded, unsure as to where Sam was going with his point. “Well,” Sam continued, “I thought about it probably wouldn’t be comfortable for you to sleep with just two pillows and stuff, so I thought we’d grab a bunch to make a sort of nest. You could sleep on your stomach without being too uncomfortable, I think.” Cas hummed thoughtfully. He hadn’t quite considered the details of his sleeping situation, truthfully. He nodded. 

“Alright. Might as well start now.”

……

Sam’s fingers brushed Cas’s as they finished shifting the last few pillows after he’d pointed out a lack of pillow support in a particular spot for his left wing. Cas lay on his stomach, wings framing his body. Once the soft cushion was arranged, Cas sighed, all of his limbs relaxing into the nest that they had made. 

They’d moved the base of the bed to the far corner and had pulled off the mattress, as well as another from the empty neighboring room to create a wide cushioned area on the floor of his room. Dean had popped in with extra pillows and linens and had tried to help before Cas and Sam effectively shooed him out as he continued to make jokes about it being a nice opportunity for a bit of a pillow fight. Neither of them had the energy for that at the moment. Turning his head, Cas fixed his eyes on Sam, a wry smile pulling at his lips. 

“Thank you, Sam.” In response, Sam simply moved just enough to squeeze his fingers over Cas’s hand, and his own lips twitched slightly as a smile came and went in the blink of an eye. 

“Don’t mention it, Cas. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Just call one of us if you need anything.”

“Certainly. Goodnight, Sam.”

………

A/N  
End?  
I guess?  
This was a one-shot, alright? *laughs* I might add to it if I have any more ideas, but as it stands, this is all y’all get.


End file.
